


say it again

by Tator



Series: davenzi drabbles [21]
Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Man of My Dreams, early morning sunrises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 08:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20597393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tator/pseuds/Tator
Summary: David is just itching with the need to see it for himself, see the entire expanse of the shadows that the morning sun will paint Berlin with that it's a little hard sitting still, even with his sleeping boyfriend breathing lightly on his shoulder.“Matteo,” he whispers into the top of his head and runs his fingers down the line of his spine.or matteo and david and "man of my dreams"





	say it again

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt: I'd love to hear your take on the "man if my dreams" line for matteo and david!
> 
> you can find the original post [here](https://bagels-and-seagulls.tumblr.com/post/187410579113/id-love-to-hear-your-take-on-the-man-if-my)

It’s early, too early to even think about getting up. The morning is still dark, and the air is soft and sweet and crisp in the way it only is on a spring morning. Most everyone else in the city would still be sleeping on a dreary Sunday morning like this, but the sky has promise of looking like a lavender field sprinkled with daffodils and lilies and a little bit like a promise of a good day. And David is just itching with the need to see it for himself, see the entire expanse of the shadows that the morning sun will paint Berlin with that it is a little hard sitting still, even with his sleeping boyfriend breathing lightly on his shoulder. 

“Matteo,” he whispers into the top of his head and runs his fingers down the line of his spine.

He doesn’t stir, and David runs his fingers through his hair, soaking in the way that he just feels like he’s in the right place at the right time in this instant. He hopes that Matteo dreams of something nice at night, something that makes him wake up with a smile, like daises and sunsets and beaches dancing with colors so bright you almost feel like you’re in a movie. David usually does, dream of something nice. These days, his nicest ones always have a figure with a little bit of a slouch, one that drags his feet and leads David to places that only his imagination could conjure up when he’s full of a love made of roses and honey bees. 

“Baby,” he sings into his temple and runs his hands down Matteo’s back. “Wake up, and come on an adventure with me.” 

Matteo grumbles a little bit, and David hears a sound full of promise. He slips out from underneath him, and the grumbling only gets louder. “Come to the roof with me,” he says, leaning up on an elbow and running his fingers down the back of Matteo’s arm and watching the goosebumps form in their wake. 

“Wha?” Matteo asks back and blinks his eyes open. 

And David just smiles and thinks of tulips and weeping willows and watching the way the sun will bounce off of Matteo’s nose when it wakes up to greet them. “Let’s go to the roof,” he says because it’s a little too early to be saying everything he’s thinking, because saying _you’re beautiful_ right now feels a little cheesy and a little to revealing all at once. 

“Why?” Matteo mumbles and scrunches his face up and closes his eyes like he’s going to go back to sleep. 

David shakes him at the ribs. “Watch the sunrise with me,” he says. “Come on, monkey. Wake up.” 

“The wha- the sunrise?” Matteo asks, shaking his head slow and sleepy, and it’s making David smile bigger and brighter for reasons he can’t really place. “Man of my dreams,” he mutters with a bit of a grumble. 

“Man of your dreams, huh?” David repeats with his heart racing and his soul settling somewhere deep in his chest, finding a home in Matteo’s words that it didn’t know it was lost from. He thinks of pine trees and Monets and how his own sleep has been filled with something warmer and sweeter and a lot like his person curling around him and smelling like flowers and tea and something a little wild. 

Matteo peaks an eye open. “It’s a hashtag.” 

“Say it again,” David says with a small little smile that’s making Matteo wake up faster than a vat of cold water poured down his spine. There’s something steaming in his smile, curling up like smoke and looking more dangerous than a bottle of whiskey and a good time. 

Matteo shakes his head and sinks into the pillows on his back as David leans over him and puts a hand on his chest. He nudges their noses together, and Matteo breathes out slow, thinking he must still be dreaming. 

“Say it again,” David says slow and quiet and presses a hot kiss to the side of Matteo’s mouth, making his fingers shake and his cheeks heat up something too hot for this early. The spacey look in Matteo’s eyes and his rosy cheeks remind David of the peonies that his grandmother used to grow outside her front door. He pressed one of them into his favorite childhood book, and he thinks that maybe he could do that to Matteo too, keep him forever wrapped in the nostalgia of this moment and carry him around in his backpack forever to look back on with his heart filled with a field of hummingbirds and forget-me-nots. 

“Man of my dreams,” Matteo whispers like molasses. They don’t make it to the sunrise.


End file.
